ii

The American fixation with doing things together as a family and spending time together in the process often puts a Thamizh man in quandary. If the wife is pregnant, he has to go through all of the following:

Take the wife for long walks in the evenings presumably to ensure suga prasavam, sit through excruciating birthing classes, watch videos of women in labor and practice the “ha ha ha hoo” breathing patterns. He has to arrange for “surprise” baby showers with his desi colleagues and friends : rotis, samosas and dahl from the friendly neighborhood gujju lady, fanta in styrofoam cups, a handycam for the video and a still camera for creating a picassa album, all make up for the seemandham. He has to put up with visiting in-laws who always seem to have something to complain about — how teens wearing tweeny shorts portend apocalypse. He has to drink his whisky in the car and trash the bottle before entering the house. As if that weren’t enough, he has to constantly assert that his education is world class and comparable to that of their friends’ kids who went to Stanford and Sloan. He has to stand by the wife’s bedside as she goes through the labor and later learn the craft of changing diapers.

Instead, he’d prefer the time honored tamizh tradition : Send the wife to her porandha veedu after the Seemandham, savor old monk, chilli chicken and adult video at home. Upon receiving a telegram that instructs him to ‘start immediately’, board the mofussil bus to see his wife and the newborn. Some oranges and a bottle of Horlicks would affirm his love for them both. He’d come back and go again in about 4 months time to fetch the kid and the wife. By then the child is old enough to be held and bounced. The kid’s bladder and bowel activities follow a pattern and could even smile when tickled. This way, the not-so-cute part of the parenting process is neatly hidden from him.

Ngotha.

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This entry was posted on July 21, 2009 at 01:00 and is filed under NRI, whisky. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed.
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I had my kids in Madras, in the proper ‘thamizh’ fashion. Porandha veetu seerattal after seemandham (all meals on the bed, ennai thechu kuliyal with sambrani pogai) and best of all – no husband in the labor room.